Reapt and Reaping
by whitecoatswontgetme
Summary: An unexpected retrieval from the Dursley's sets Harry on a completely new path through life and the intimacies of death are finally revealed to him in a way he had not foreseen. Grey!Harry.
1. Chapter 1

After three hours of the excruciating headache Lord Voldemort was losing his patience. He knew that tactically it would be better for the boy to weaken himself and for his friendships to fragment on their own before he struck, but he couldn't take it anymore! The pressure was building and building. How was the boy doing this to him; how had he found a way to manipulate the scar like this? _He'd_ not even been able to do it in the past.

He could feel the connection breaking past his shields straight into his mind and he knew that something had to give. He sighed as he realised he was going to do something impulsive and rash; it was not like him at all. He felt for the tendrils that would guide him in the blind apparition and tugged ever so slightly to check they held firm before he focussed solely on the other wizard's magic. Hopefully, the Potter residence wasn't too heavily rigged with traps and wards; he was tired and if he was going to kill the boy prematurely he wanted it to be quick.


	2. Chapter 2

His initial response was disgust. Typical Gryfindors had to paint everything bloody red but then his vision sharpened and the silent exclamation of shock stayed frozen in place as he saw the crumpled form of his young enemy, an enemy that looked halfway into the grave already. His head was shaven roughly with cuts running in jagged lines only emphasising the whiteness of his face. He was looking at a skull and bones but the lips were moving. No sound but there was breath. He moved forwards. He was ill equipped for assisting people but being a rather paranoid tyrant he had some basics upon his person. It was inadequate but it could save his life.

The boy's words couldn't be heard but it seemed a chant, or mantra. He tried to coax the first potion down without causing him to choke. The boy didn't seem to notice and Voldemort considered the damage done, staring at the bottle in his hands. What was he doing? He comes to kill a boy and then drags him back to the land of the living… but still… if the boy was going to die it was going to be by his hand. Whoever did this had no right, no right at all.

The blood replenishment potion was taking effect, but slowly. He wasn't sure how much had already been drained but the floor was soaked. He tried to close the largest of the wounds to the boy's chest and legs. If he could stop the flow then maybe there was hope after all.

"Who are you and what do you think you're doing in my house!?"

The shout caught him unaware and Voldemort quickly fumbled for his wand; he'd been so careless! The muggle was holding a knife, long and sharp. It already had a pink tint to it; he'd wiped it but he knew it had already seen use that night.

"I suggest you leave Muggle." His voice was calm, quiet and full of menace, but Vernon Dursley was not a sensible man and one word was clanging around his head. "Muggle! You're a freak!" he lunged forwards and stabled wildly with his knife but Voldemort was much more alert now that the boy was recovering blood. The man was disarmed and thrown to the floor in seconds. Harry's eyes flickered but the older wizard didn't think they saw anything.

"Feel you here" he muttered and Voldemort crouched so he could hear. The boy was raspy. More injuries to heal he thought solemnly.

"Please. It's time. Please … just kill me. Want nothing to do with them, none of them. Kill me; I want to die".

Voldemort cast one last dirty look to the muggle lying on the floor and with two simple incantations alerted the ministry to magical disturbance at Privet Drive, but it was too late.

"Tough shit Potter. You're coming with me".

The tremors tore through Vernon silently and he was perfectly still as the body bind held firm. The cruciatus failed through apparition and his emptying bladder and tears were the only clues the aurors and Order had to go on when they arrived at the scene of an attempted murder.


	3. Chapter 3

"You should have left me"  
"I know."  
"Why didn't you; I wanted to die! I was ready".  
"Well I wasn't!"  
"Well I was hardly in a position to threaten _you_!"  
"I wasn't ready for _you_ to die! I thought I was but… they had no right. That monster was family; he should have been fighting for you not trying to carve you up. I know what I am; I know what I've done and you've always known what to expect from me. You turned down my offer so you were the enemy. It was understood. Family shouldn't be able to do what he did.

I've seen worse, done worse Potter; you know that, but if you were mine nothing would harm you unless I was already dead."  
"How sentimental".  
"You are a guest in my house, Potter… of sorts.. you will l not come to harm whilst here. Now onto the dreary business of your relatives. why did he attack you?"  
Harry shrugged awkwardly. "He felt like it; he'd had a bad day".  
Voldemort narrowed his eyes and Harry sighed.  
"He caught me reading a book downstairs, on his settee. I'm not allowed. They were out and I was supposed to stay in my room until they returned later in the afternoon but Vernon came back early because his meeting went badly. The others weren't back from shopping. He was angry and decided he had had enough of me."

Voldemort examined the boy's forehead. The scar was now very prominent without the mop of black hair to hide it. It seemed to be eerily white, enflamed but deathly pale.  
"Are you aware you were contacting me through your scar?"  
"I did? How?" his confusion seemed honest and Voldemort reluctantly admitted he'd felt the pain, but assured Harry he could have coped but he'd merely been curious.  
"How long am I a guest here?"  
"Wanting to know when I'm kicking you out?" Voldemort asked wryly.  
"Well, yeah. Want to know how long I've got before I'm target practice again".  
"I will not be allowing you to leave this property until you are fully recovered.""Why not chuck me out now? You've done your bit. Your moral duties have been fulfilled. I'm alive so you can now kill me in good conscience?"  
Voldemort smiled at the boy. "Potter, why are you so willing to die?"  
Harry closed his eyes and breathed out the words. "They don't want me; I don't want them".  
"Who?" he demanded.  
"Everyone! All of them! The Dursleys definitely don't want me. You saw that, but the others… they don't even know me. Think I'm a paint by numbers kind of kid. I must be exactly what they need, and expect perfectly heroic. Well, they can get screwed cos the only time anyone has ever helped me is now and you're the bloody dark lord. I've told them you know. Asked them, _begged_ them not to send me back but they didn't care. He smiled! _Smiled_. I'd like to see him face them with no magic."  
"Who?"  
"Dumbledore. Told me family was important and I should try harder to fit in."

"Potter, I know you are emotionally troubled at the present but in the light of these events I cannot see us progressing as we had been doing… would you consider a change in our political relationship?"  
"You want me to join you and fight them?"  
"I know you probably wouldn't want to fight but they clearly don't deserve you. I was hoping perhaps you would be willing to find other ways to assist?".  
"I want to fight. I'm not a death eater; I'm not for killing the innocent and I'm not a muggle hater! _Just them_." Harry's eyes darkened as he considered his situation. "Can you teach me? I am going back for them. For him. I want him. Can you do that for me? Then I'll fight."  
"I would hope he is already incarcerated in the muggle prisons Harry."  
"Well, can you get me in one of those? That's nothing; they're not like Azkaban."  
"I'm sure I can try but I want you to get better first. Revenge can wait; I assure you rushing into such things will not turn out for the best. You only need to look at my history to see that it can be dangerous, counter productive and self-destructive."

"I was a dead man; I'm taking them".  
"And I'm not letting you out till you're _fully_ recovered."  
Harry growled but then calmed himself. "Sorry, I'm just …angry".  
"That's understandable. I'm a dark lord; I will assist, but only on my own terms. I am unaccustomed to playing medic but I will do it properly. Is there anyone you trust that you'd want to see?"  
"No one. It's just me".

Voldemort wondered if he trusted any of his followers not to kill him on sight. "It's probably best you are healthy before we make any introductions on this end. I am out a lot in the day. I can have Nagini stay with you?"  
"That would be good."  
"Ok, well I'm going to leave you for now and get some thing arranged for you. Get some sleep if you can. If you don't try I'll dose you up. Be warned! Sleep well, Potter."  
Harry smiled. "Night."

He stared into the night sky that shone on the ceiling. He felt like a torrent of emotion was freed within him and none of it was good. He was used to being angry but coupled with the night's despair it had erupted stronger than ever and as determined as he was to get back at the Dursleys he also wanted to curl up and let it all go. The dark lord had been pleasant, but Harry didn't trust him. He was a prisoner, dependent on someone sworn and prophesied to kill him. Not that it mattered anymore; he'd had his chance and hadn't taken it. He knew he wasn't going back. He'd had enough of their games. He'd had enough of friends who didn't want him; just the idea of him.

So, he was stuck here. A truce wasn't enough. He didn't want to walk the line between the two sides. He'd been wronged and wanted revenge, but he knew he wasn't evil. He'd have to negotiate his alliance if it happened although what he had to offer was anyone's guess. He still felt like he had in the department of mysteries. Fighting so hard to stay alive but knowing the veil was right there, so close. Sirius was just behind it. If he just reached in he'd take hold of him. Death was close; he wasn't out of its clutch yet. He knew he would never be able to rely on having time. He knew death was his constant shadow but he would accept that and he would fight for each and every day. If that meant walking beside the dark lord then he would. He was going to be his own person before he died.

He was going to be Harry, and none of his former friends were going to like it.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry stumbled as his legs shook on the stairs. Even though he knew he had permission and even though he knew the death eaters were not allowed in this section of the property the doubt still lingered in his mind and his body trembled at the idea of a fight in his still weakened condition.

Harry thoroughly disliked feeling weak. He knew he was not alone; Voldemort himself despised the feeling and Harry wondered if this was a contributing factor in his descent into madness. Not a comforting thought, he mused.

The few portraits that were hung on the walls watched him warily and in silence. They were suspicious of him. Harry thought it amusing they thought he was the one not to be trusted in this grim place. He wondered who they were, relatives of some sort or admired role models? Voldemort didn't seem the type for either.

He was searching for the library. He had been given directions but the hallways were confusing and he had got lost a few times before finding something to get his bearings. He suspected Voldemort had elves but he didn't want to take any liberties summoning them, and part of him worried what sort of bedraggled creature would appear before him; he didn't want to know.

His temper had cooled. Part of him was resolved; Vernon Dursley was going to suffer, but it wouldn't be right now. It would be right when he thought he'd got away with it. Then Harry would strike, although he was feeling less murderous now and more inclined to prolong the pain but with less final results. He knew Dursley was a despicable human being and he could not imagine any possible redemption in his future but his aunt and Dudley were more ambiguous. He knew neither liked him or supported him but neither had they encouraged the sort of recklessness and abandon that Vernon exhibited. He'd allow them a chance, but if they blew it …

Harry was rather surprised to find he wasn't alone in the library when he did manage to find it. The Dark Lord eyed him speculatively from a highly decorative chair facing towards the door. Harry gulped uncomfortably. He wasn't at ease with him yet even though so far there had been no aggression or maliciousness. Sometimes though a coldness crept from him and Harry imagine it cloaking him and smothering him. He shuddered.

"So you've ventured out at last? How are the legs faring?"

Harry smiled nervously and told him he was fine.

"I would like to talk to you about that night, Harry".

Harry narrowed his eyes and waited. What more could the man want to know? He'd seen everything after all. The man waited whilst Harry calmed down and then began again.

"I am unnerved by how easily you dismissed your own life. I am unaccustomed to desiring people to remain alive and I cannot begin to comprehend what was going through your mind but I only know I could never imagine myself wanting to just … stop being alive. After all, I have been fighting all my life, for survival, for improvement and it seems to me you must be the same, in your own way. You're less radical of course; I was a revolutionary, but you have been the white knight, and I know…" he hastily added as Harry scowled, "that you are not a white knight and you are just yourself, a normal boy who bad things have happened to, but surely even so you have been fighting for your life all your life?"

Harry took deep breaths as the man finished.

"I don't know what to say. I have but I am tired now. If you'd died a week ago I wouldn't have won. There was no victory, just more and more loss. There won't be an end to the fight to survive, even without you. Who I am is constantly under threat. Who I am is a battleground between me and everyone, and I am tired of it. Besides..." he looked hesitantly into the man's red eyes, "I feel very … close to death. It's like a friend who I know from a long way back and I know if I go up and talk to him it will be like we were never apart. Death is my shadow and my shield and Death is my everything because life pales before it. All my adventures and escapades have been face to face or hand in hand with my death. At any moment I could have been whisked away and I suppose it felt like I should stop telling Death I have other plans."

"I do not understand", and he didn't. Not at all.

Lord Voldemort was proud and he would submit to no one, admit defeat to no one. He'd thought Harry the same but clearly Harry was defeated. He hadn't won by converting or negating the threat of Harry Potter. Harry had just decided he didn't want to play the game with as little thought and consideration to his archenemy as could be possible. It seemed he was rather irrelevant in Harry's fight for the future and he didn't like it. It might be arrogant but he liked being the centre of attention. He liked the world either applauding or screaming before him. It worked for him. He wanted that. He had always wanted the world to know his name, and at 10 years old he already knew one day they would all fear it.

"Death is close by but you are young with much to live for Potter. You have been surrounded by do-gooders and hypocrites. I understand we will not see eye to eye on all issues but amongst my soldiers you may find more kindred spirits. You may even find love?"

Harry laughed. "You expect me to shack up with a death eater?"

"Well, I am simply offering it as a possibility. It's not all about killing the unworthy you know".

It was a lie. It was complete and utter lie. It was all about killing the unworthy, and yet as Voldemort stared at the walking corpse before him he wasn't sure that it should be. Convincing himself would take a while, and his servants would not be able to reconcile any difference in political agenda, but as he watched the boy he thought it may be worth the hassle of a little change. Besides, with Potter out of the way it was less of a war anyway and more a forceful handover in leadership. It was time for the next step. They had the foot in the door; maybe it was time to be more civilised and open to society again? Maybe…

How many Harry Potters were out there with abusive relatives, children being tortured through misunderstanding. He had been one such boy. How many more? Maybe it was time to stop it. Maybe it was finally time Lord Voldemort changed the world.


End file.
